


Something Up

by calathea



Category: I Want To Go Home! - Korman
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-28
Updated: 2009-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-05 10:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calathea/pseuds/calathea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was something up with Miller and Webster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Up

There was something going on with Miller and Webster. Chip just wished he knew what it was. When he said as much at the Tuesday night counsellors meeting, everyone just looked at him with varying degrees of irritation and scorn.

"There's always something going on with Miller and Webster," Frank said, rolling his eyes at Chip.

Chip scowled back. "Something more," he insisted, gesticulating wildly. "Something different."

No one paid any attention. Frustrated, Chip sat back in his chair, folded his arms, and sulked for the rest of meeting. If nobody would listen, well, he'd just have to take care of it himself.

* * * * * * 

The next day, Chip followed Miller and Webster when they disappeared into the craft room after lunch. There were no craft sessions today, so they shouldn't have been in there at all. Chip paused outside the door to listen. There were soft scuffling sounds inside, and even the faint sound of music. Straining to hear, Chip pressed his ear against the door. He jumped, startled, when Webster suddenly said loudly, "Ouch! That hurt!" There were more slight noises, and then Webster yelped again, "Ouch! Damn it, Rudy! It's supposed to be sexy, you didn't warn me it would hurt!"

Suddenly alarmed, Chip barrelled through the door, coming to a sudden halt when he found the two boys standing together in the middle of the room, Mike balancing on one foot, one arm around Miller's neck, the other hand rubbing at his foot. "Miller! ... what are you doing?" he asked, disconcerted.

Miller was still infuriatingly calm. "I'm trying to teach Mike to slow dance in time for the Silver Lake dance. He keeps falling over his own feet."

Webster went pink at Miller's casual remark, and started to splutter, "Over my feet? What about your feet, twinkle toes?"

Chris eyed them both suspiciously. Sure enough, the craft tables had been moved aside to leave enough floor space to dance, and a slow, romantic tune was playing on Miller's little radio. Still, Chip was unconvinced. "Well, whatever you're doing, stop it. You're supposed to be... somewhere that isn't here. Go!"

Miller smirked and looked ready to make a smart comment. "Now!" Chip hollered.

* * * * * * 

For the rest of the day, Chip kept the two boys within his sight. They were acting normally, or as normally as Webster and Miller ever acted. While the other boys ran around the obstacle course, they amused themselves with a book about birds, and a set of binoculars. Twice, he intercepted them as they tried to head for the woods, claiming they had seen an interesting specimen, but they didn't seem particularly distressed by his interference. On the second occasion, Miller sighed loudly as they turned back to where they had been sitting, and Chip caught the end of a murmured word to Webster, "...catraz!" Webster shook his head sadly and clapped his friend on the back.

By dinner time, Chip was starting to wonder if the other counsellors had been right. Relaxing, he watched as Miller and Webster stood up and, complaining, made their way towards garbage duty. Ah, he thought smugly, garbage duty. Out in the woods with only the ripe smell of rotting food, a million mosquitoes and a shovel for company. Alone. Together. In the woods.

The words suddenly coalesced in Chip's brain and he leapt to his feet, accidentally knocking over the drink of the camper next to him the process. Apologising hastily, he raced towards the woods. The garbage was neatly dealt with, the shovels clean and stacked as required, but the boys were nowhere to be seen. There were noises, though, over from the left, and they sounded suspiciously like heavy breathing and grunting. Chip crept stealthily towards the sound. In the dim light, all he could make out was Miller's back to him. A hand, presumably Wesbter's, was clenched in the back of Miller's t-shirt. The two boys seemed to be writhing against one another. Suddenly, Chip heard a groan. The two boys broke apart, and Miller started talking, "No, that was all wrong," he began. "You have to hold tightly. Here, let me show you."

Chip burst out of his hiding place. "Miller! ...What are you doing?" he shouted.

"He's teaching me judo," Webster said, breathlessly, "My mom says I have to learn self-defence. I'm not very good yet."

Miller's face was unreadable in the gloom. "I have a black belt."

"Of course you do," Chip growled, catching both boys by the arm. "If you two are done with the garbage you should have come straight back to camp."

Miller pulled his arm away. "All right, all right, no need to frog march us." Webster giggled. Chip muttered angrily beneath his breath, and, letting go of Webster too, gestured to them to head back to camp in front of him.

* * * * * * 

By the end of the day, Chip was exhausted. He'd chased after Miller another four times between garbage duty and lights out, and each time the boy had had a perfectly good excuse. He was thirsty, he was going to the bathroom, he was going to get marshmallows for the fire, he was getting a book to lend to Mark in Cabin 5. And Webster was just coming along for company. Chip hadn't been able to relax all evening, and the other counsellors were acting like he was crazy. He was just drifting off to sleep when he heard the unmistakeable sound of the cabin door opening and closing. In a moment, he was up and off his bed, groping for a shirt and shoes.

As he crept through the cabin, he saw, as he expected, that the bunks Miller and Webster slept in were empty. He closed the door softly behind himself, and jogged quickly towards the main camp building, then around by the sports fields, before heading to the blackened patch where the campfire usually burned. Nothing. That only left the dock and the boathouse. As he drew near, he could see two dark shapes at the end of the dock. Their voices carried clearly in the darkness.

"Geez, what was with Chip today?" Webster was saying. "I thought he was going to pop a blood vessel following us around tonight."

Miller's voice was dry. "He's an excellent candidate for a cardiac incident."

Webster turned and grinned up at his slightly taller friend. "Yeah, and we weren't even doing anything. Imagine if he found us..." His voice trailed off as Miller seemed to swoop down on him, muffling his words with his lips. Chip felt his jaw slacken as the two boys kissed, their hands meeting and clasping as he watched. After a few moments, he turned and stumbled away, only just remembering to catch the door of Cabin 13 so it wouldn't bang and wake the other boys up. He sat on the edge of his bed for a few moments. The door squeaked a little as it opened and closed again. He heard the creak of timbers as Webster climbed into his upper bunk. Chip lay back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. There was something going on with Miller and Webster, and he wished he didn't know what it was.


End file.
